Move Over Algonquin Round Table
by Red Witch
Summary: Another poker night at the Figgis Agency.


**The disclaimer telling all of you that I don't own any Archer characters is at a poker game. This is simply more madness from my tiny little mind on what the gang did while Archer was still in the coma. **

**Move Over Algonquin Round Table **

"All right, all right, all right!" Ray whooped as he showed his hand. "Full house! Read 'em and weep!" He was wearing his dealer's visor and had taken off his jacket, revealing his blue shirt.

"Ah man!" Pam groaned. She was playing poker with Cheryl, Cyril and Krieger in the bullpen at one of the tables. There were snacks and candies all over the place. As well as a large amount of beer bottles.

"Come to Daddy!" Ray whooped as he brought in the pot. Which happened to be mostly candy bars.

"Chill out Ray," Pam snorted as she chomped on a candy bar. "We're not even playing for money. Just candy."

"Still fun to win," Ray shrugged.

"Hey it's poker night no matter what we play for," Krieger pointed out.

"It's better than sitting alone in my apartment watching TV," Cyril admitted with a sigh. "How did my life end up like this?"

"I'm guessing that's a rhetorical question?" Pam asked.

"Just lucky I suppose," Krieger shrugged. "To be honest, this isn't exactly how I thought my life would turn out either. Working in a defunct detective agency."

"My agency isn't **defunct!**" Cyril snapped. "It's still…Somewhat relevant."

"Maybe about three seasons ago?" Cheryl shrugged as she looked at her cards. "But now…"

"Still not a TV show, Cheryl," Pam sighed.

"What did you think your life was going to be like?" Ray asked Krieger.

"Honestly…" Krieger paused. "I've always had a dream of being a drummer in a band. Even when I was a kid and my father was grooming me to take over the family business."

"You mean being a Nazi?" Pam was stunned.

"More like working in the field of science," Krieger paused. "But yeah…Don't get me wrong I love my work."

"It's just you'd rather get paid a shitload of cash for doing crazy mad experiments for a crazy insane government," Cheryl spoke up. "While being a drummer in a band on the weekends and banging all your groupies. I saw where you were going with that."

"Honestly the fact that I'm not in Wisconsin anymore is good enough for me," Pam shrugged. "And away from my family."

"Ditto," Ray admitted. "Except substitute Wisconsin for West Virginia. At least we're living the semi-sweet life in California. I don't know how much longer but still…"

"I so don't want to go back home," Cyril sighed. "The last thing I want is to go back to my father and let his disappointment crush my spirit."

"Yeah Ms. Archer and Lana did that **years** ago," Cheryl snickered.

"You know…?" Cyril looked at her.

"At least you **can **go home," Krieger paused. "My childhood home is literally a pile of rubble. Ms. Archer and her special ops team blew it up after they kidnapped me."

"I've seen Ray's childhood home," Cheryl pointed out. "It's not that much better."

"Thanks a lot for reminding me," Ray groaned.

"You're welcome!" Cheryl grinned.

"I guess we all have broken dreams as well as broken homes," Ray sighed.

"Are you gonna cry and bitch about how you didn't win a gold medal?" Pam asked.

"No!" Ray snapped. "I was thinking more along the lines of having a rich boyfriend and running my own business while living in a mansion in New York. But **thank you** Pam, for adding **that** to the list!"

"Ugh trust me," Cheryl waved. "Having a rich boyfriend isn't all that it's cracked up to be. I had like a dozen of them in high school. It always starts out nice and fun. And then here come the restraining orders."

"Cyril you got any broken dreams?" Pam asked. "Besides you know? Marrying Lana. Because that ship sailed a long time ago!"

"She could still marry me!" Cyril snapped. "If Archer dies. And she gets desperate."

"I thought she already **was desperate** when she was banging you the second time," Ray smirked.

"You know for a lot of rich bitches who claim they like to live on the edge," Cheryl mused. "Most of them turned into pussies the second their car seats were on fire!"

"Can we talk about something else?" Cyril groaned. "**Anything** else?"

Pam looked at Ray. "Seriously? You want to get hitched to some guy and live in New York?"

"Or Paris," Ray shrugged. "Milan. London. I'm not picky. As long as he's rich and we can live in a mansion. Or a really, really, really nice penthouse."

"Yeah I can see myself living that lifestyle," Pam sighed.

"You're the **only one**," Cheryl remarked.

"Shut up Neck Bird!" Pam snapped.

"Technically that already happened," Cyril pointed out. "We lived in Tunt Manor for a few months. And that palace in San Marcos."

"I kind of miss that palace," Krieger sighed. "It felt like home. Even if I did have to murder all my fellow clones. I wonder how the unholy amphibious boy is doing?"

"The **what now**?" Pam did a double take.

"Nothing," Krieger gulped. "Let's talk about something else. **Anything** else!"

Cyril sighed. "I've always wondered what it would be like to go to a party where people were sophisticated and witty."

"Question," Cheryl spoke up. "Does anyone else name their toes from time to time? Or is it just me?"

"Keep wondering, Cyril," Ray groaned.

"Well not **my toes** specifically…" Krieger shrugged. "I mean the ones that are attached to me. But sometimes…"

"I don't want to know!" Cyril snapped.

"**None** of us want to know!" Ray snapped. "Next topic!"

"I found this online quiz on what kind of alcoholic drink you would be," Pam spoke up. "I'm champagne because I'm so bubbly!"

"I can see that," Cheryl nodded. "You are totally champagne."

"Thank you," Pam grinned.

"Obviously not one of the **good **champagnes," Cheryl went on. "Not one of the well-known expensive champagnes. More like one of those local champagnes you can buy at a store for only like ten or twenty bucks."

"But it's still champagne right?" Pam asked.

"Oh yeah totally," Cheryl said. "The kind some middle-class person buys to christen his boat with. You know, so he doesn't go over budget."

"You think I can christen a **boat?**" Pam asked. "Awww…"

"I've christened a few boats in my time," Krieger quipped. "And some back seats. An elevator…"

"It doesn't count if you're **by yourself**, Krieger," Pam told him.

Krieger pouted. "Aww…"

"I'd be a Cosmo," Ray said.

"No surprises **there**," Cheryl giggled.

"I think I'd be like a Merlot," Cyril remarked. "A good body and a nice nose."

"More like a flat beer that's pouring **out** of somebody's nose," Pam snorted. "Cheryl what kind of drink would you be?"

Cheryl paused. "One that's already drunk."

"Move over Algonquin Round Table," Ray said dryly. "The Figgis Agency Poker Night is now the bar for sophistication and wit."

"More like a bar full of halfwits," Cyril grumbled.

Krieger paused. "Do you know what's inside Kit Kats? Ground up Kit Kats."

"Wait _what?_" Pam asked.

"The filling of a Kit Kat is made from ground up Kit Kats," Krieger nodded. "You know those wafers? Kit Kats! Shredded and made into wafers."

"So…" Cheryl blinked. "Kit Kats are _cannibals_?"

"Huh," Pam picked up a Kit Kat from the table. "No wonder these damn things are so delicious."

"I like candy bars with lots of nuts in them," Cyril admitted.

"Not touching **that one** with a ten-foot pole," Ray quipped.

"I love nuts too!" Cheryl said.

"You are what you eat," Pam quipped. "Speaking of eating you guys wanna order a pizza?"

"I could go for pizza," Ray agreed.

"Why not?" Cyril sighed.

"Okay," Pam took out her phone. "I'm gonna order one cheese, one pepperoni, one veggie, one meat lovers, and a Hawaiian."

"What are the rest of us going to have?" Cheryl quipped.

"You're gonna have **a knuckle sandwich**!" Pam made a fist with her other hand. Cheryl giggled with glee. "Oh god she's taking me literally!"

"I don't know Pam," Krieger frowned. "Hawaiian? Pineapple on a _pizza_? Sounds unnatural!"

Pam looked at Krieger. "_Unnatural?_ This from the guy that has made more mutants than Dr. Moreau?"

"I have to agree with Krieger on this one," Cyril said. "Hawaiian is okay but it's not really to my taste."

"You don't have to eat it!" Pam snapped.

"But we do have to smell it," Ray said.

"Pineapple on pizza smells great!" Pam snapped.

"It smells weird," Krieger said.

"Again, **you **are complaining about **weird?**" Pam snapped.

"I just lost a pineapple plantation to a volcano in Hawaii!" Cheryl snapped. "Do you think I want to be **reminded **of that?"

"Okay! Fine! No Hawaiian!" Pam snapped. "What **do** you guys want?"

"How about sausage?" Cyril suggested.

"We already have that on the meat lovers," Ray said.

"We also have the pepperoni on meat lovers," Cyril told him. "And a separate pepperoni pizza."

"Yeah so?" Ray asked.

"How is sausage different than pepperoni?" Cyril asked.

"How is **sausage**…?" Ray did a double take. "It's like I don't even **know** you!"

"Do you even **want** to know him?" Cheryl quipped.

"How about clam pizza with white sauce?" Pam suggested.

"Do you live on the _docks?"_ Ray snapped. "I suggest Margherita pizza."

"That's basically the same as a cheese pizza," Pam snapped. "It **is** a cheese pizza!"

"But with basil on it," Ray pointed out.

"I don't see why we can't have separate sausage pizza," Cyril said. "We have a separate pepperoni pizza. What's the difference?"

"If we have to explain **that**…" Pam looked at Cyril.

"What about pizza with gummy bears on it?" Cheryl asked.

"NO!" Everyone shouted.

"Shrimp scampi pizza?" Pam suggested.

"No!" Ray said.

"How about hamburger pizza?" Cyril suggested.

"What are you? Twelve?" Krieger asked. "The truly sophisticated palate prefers mac and cheese on pizza."

"Oh God no!" Ray winced.

"Eww…" Cyril winced.

"Bleach!" Cheryl gagged.

"I'll eat that," Pam said.

"You eat **everything**!" Ray snapped. "Face it Pam, garbage disposals have a more discriminating palate than you do."

"I still don't see why we can't have a sausage pizza," Cyril asked.

"Will you knock it off with the sausage pizza?" Pam snapped. "How about Buffalo Chicken pizza?"

"Chicken is okay," Ray admitted. "It's protein."

"It is spicy," Cheryl admitted.

"Excuse me how is Buffalo chicken okay but sausage **isn't?**" Cyril snapped. "That's just as weird as Hawaiian!"

"I'm with Cyril," Krieger nodded. "Buffalo chicken on a pizza sounds weird."

"Really Gonzo The Not So Great?" Ray snapped. "How about eggplant?"

"We have veggie remember?" Pam snapped.

"So?" Cyril asked.

"Eggplant is the sausage of the vegetable world," Pam said. "Everybody knows that!"

"I knew it," Krieger said.

"See?" Pam pointed.

"Philly cheesesteak?" Cyril asked.

"**No,"** Everyone else said.

"Tex-Mex?" Pam suggested.

"**NO!"** Everyone else shouted.

"How about garlic and peppers?" Krieger asked.

"How about this office smells like death for a week?" Ray asked sharply. "No!"

"Well at least we'll be safe from vampires," Pam shrugged.

"Oh, not **this** again," Cyril groaned. "Are we sure we've taken sausage off the table?"

"You're going to be **under** the table in about five minutes," Pam looked at Cyril. "And not in the fun way!"

"Fruit pizza?" Cheryl suggested.

"Nice Cheryl," Pam looked at Cheryl. "Insulting Ray like that. Get some class, will you?"

"No, I mean pizza with fruit on it," Cheryl said.

"How is that different than Hawaiian?" Krieger asked.

"No ham and it's a dessert," Cheryl said.

"Fruit as a _dessert?_" Pam looked at her. "Without chocolate? I don't get it."

"Right, I forgot who I was talking to," Cheryl sighed.

"Cheryl, I think it's safe to say that's out," Cyril said. "What about California style?"

"That's a **veggie pizza**!" Pam snapped.

"Fig and goat cheese with arugula," Ray suggested.

"How drunk are **you**?" Pam looked at Ray. "Chicken Tikka Masala!"

"How drunk are **you**?" Ray shot back.

"Oh right," Pam realized. "Last time I had that I had the runs for a week."

"I remember the bill for replacing that one toilet," Cyril looked at her. "We **all** remember that!"

"Breakfast pizza?" Krieger suggested.

"For **dinner?**" Cheryl scoffed. "Weird!"

"I guess mushroom pizza is right out huh?" Krieger asked.

"After what happened with the **mushroom coffee**?" Cyril snapped. "Yeah!"

"Technically it wasn't the mushrooms **in **the coffee that got you all high," Krieger corrected. "But I see your point."

"You're gonna see the point of a tungsten knitting needle if you try that again," Cheryl warned.

"And we might just let her," Ray added.

"Barbecue chicken?" Cyril suggested.

"Ehh…" Everyone else said.

"Yeah I wasn't that crazy about that one myself," Cyril admitted.

"Wait a minute," Pam slapped her head. "I got it! It's so obvious! Bacon!"

"Ohh…" Everyone said at once.

"I have no problem with that," Cyril said.

"Me too," Ray agreed.

"Piggly and I are on the outs so…" Krieger nodded. "Bacon it is!"

"Hooray for screaming pigs!" Cheryl cheered.

"How is bacon different than sausage?" Cyril asked.

"How is **bacon**…?" Ray did a double take. "_Seriously?"_

"A bacon **and **sausage pizza!" Pam snapped. "Half bacon-half sausage! Satisfied?"

"I'm good," Cyril nodded.

"Finally," Pam put the order in on her phone. "I love this new pizza app on the phone. Now we just have to wait about twenty minutes."

"So, what do we do while we wait?" Ray asked. "Play another hand?"

"Might as well," Pam shrugged. "We can work up an appetite."

"Pam you can work up an appetite **breathing**," Cyril remarked.

"You're lucky to be breathing at all dick nuts!" Pam warned. "Ray deal us in."

"All right, all right," Ray dealt the cards. "Jokers are wild and so is the dealer!"

"Ugh this isn't a hand," Cheryl looked at her cards. "It's a foot."

"It would help if you turned the cards the **other way around** Cheryl," Cyril sighed.

"Huh?" Cheryl blinked.

"You're looking at **the back** of the cards," Cyril told her. "Not the front!"

"We can all see your hand!" Pam snapped.

"Ohhhh…." Cheryl did so. "I was wondering why there weren't any numbers."

"For the record Cheryl," Krieger shrugged. "You were right. That isn't a good hand."

"Yeah," Cheryl nodded. "I raise!" She threw in her candy.

"But I just said…" Krieger paused.

"Shut up," Ray looked at him. "If she wants in, **let her**!"

"Yeah who made you the Poker Police, Joker Face?" Pam snapped. "I raise!"

"Me too," Cyril shrugged. "I'll see you two Kit Kats and a Mars Bar."

"Can you make the Mars Bar a Snickers?" Cheryl asked.

"What difference does that make?" Cyril asked.

"I don't like Mars Bars. I like Snickers," Cheryl said.

"I don't want to bet any of my Snickers," Cyril said. "How about a Milky Way?"

"No, I want a Snickers in the pot," Cheryl said.

"What difference does it make anyway?" Krieger asked. "There's a good chance you're not going to win. Because you know? We all saw your hand."

"Shut up Krieger!" Ray snapped. "I'll put in one of **my Snickers**." He did so. "There. Happy?"

"No!" Cheryl snapped. "Because there's still a Mars Bar in the pot and I don't want it!"

"Then fold!" Cyril snapped.

"Make me!" Cheryl snapped.

"I'm not taking back my Mars Bar," Cyril snapped.

"Why not?" Cheryl snapped.

"There's no takes-ies-back-ies in poker!" Pam snapped. "**That's **why not!"

"Well there should be!" Cheryl snapped.

"I'm putting in two Milky Ways, a Three Musketeers and a Milky Way Dark," Pam did so.

"I'm folding," Krieger said. "Too rich for my blood sugar."

"I'm in for some Starbursts and a Milky Way," Ray put in his candy.

"I'm putting in **two **Mars Bars!" Cyril snapped. "How do you like **them apples** Cheryl?"

"Grrr…" Cheryl fumed. "Don't you dare put any apples in the pot!"

"Are you in or not?" Ray snapped at Cheryl.

"YES!" Cheryl put in several candies. "GIN!"

"Again, this is **poker**," Pam sighed. "I'm calling. Three of a kind."

"Me too," Ray showed his cards.

"Full house!" Cyril showed. "Hey I won a hand! Which means all this is **mine!** Ha! Ha!" He pulled in the pot.

"Fine!" Cheryl pouted. "You can keep your stupid Mars Bars."

"Fun fact," Krieger said. "Mars Bars weren't named after the planet, but it's maker Forrest Mars. Son of Frank C. Mars the maker of the Milky Way Bar."

"So Mars Bars are related to the Milky Way," Pam realized. "Interesting."

"Another fun fact," Krieger spoke up. "American Mars Bars are closer to the taste of Snickers than their British counterpart."

"Just rub it in why don't you?" Cheryl grumbled.

"My Aunt Ester once made a dry rub with ground up candy bars in it," Pam remarked. "Those ribs were really sweet. A little stickier than usual but sweet."

"I should **buy **the candy company that makes Mars Bars," Cheryl pouted. "Then I could shut that stupid candy down! HA!"

"Let's change the subject," Ray suggested. "To something else. **Anything **else!"

Krieger paused. "The Tlaiques of Mexican legend is a vampire that can assume the form of a ball of flame or a turkey."

Everyone looked at Krieger. "You said **anything**," Krieger defended.

"I swear I know more facts about vampires than any grown man my age should know," Ray groaned.

"Unless you're a Watcher," Cheryl spoke up. "Then yeah you should know a lot more."

"I'm living with **flaming turkeys**," Pam groaned. "Not to be confused with the summer I spent on Aunt Ester's farm and she got into a fight with one of her neighbors. Who actually set some turkeys of hers on fire."

"Seriously?" Cheryl did a double take.

"Well technically she set the **entire barn** on fire," Pam said. "But there were turkeys in it as well as some sheep, some cows, chickens, a couple of goats and a really pissed off cat."

Everyone looked at Pam. "The cat survived and attacked the neighbor," Pam said. "But all the other animals died and the barn was destroyed. So we had this barbecue…"

"Stop!" Ray held up his hand. "I don't want to know anymore."

"You had like the best childhood," Cheryl pouted. "I am so jealous of you."

"There's a sentence you don't hear every day," Cyril remarked.

"Here's **another sentence** you don't hear every day," Cheryl shot back. "Wow, Cyril you are having a totally fulfilling life that isn't a complete disappointment to your father at all!"

"Ouch," Krieger winced. "There's a burn."

"Harsh burn," Ray winced.

"Totally inappropes dawg," Pam agreed.

"Hey Cheryl," Cyril looked at her.

"What?" Cheryl asked.

Cyril unwrapped the Snickers and bit into it. "It really does satisfy you."

Cheryl glared at him. "Grr…"

"What are you gonna do Cheryl?" Cyril asked. "Cry?"

Ten minutes later…

"AAAAAAAAAAAHHH!" Cyril ran for his life through the halls of the Figgis Agency.

"DIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIEEEEEE!" Cheryl chased after him holding a tungsten knitting needle.

"Where the hell does she get those?" Pam remarked casually as she watched the chaos with Ray and Krieger.

"Beats me," Ray shrugged as he took a drink. "I'm just glad I'm not the one at the wrong end of 'em."

"AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHH!" Cyril ran by again.

"I'M GONNA STAB YOU UP ASSHOLE!" Cheryl ran after him brandishing the knitting needle. "GONNA STAB YOU SO GOOD!"

"She's not the one crying," Pam said. "I'll give her that."

"AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHH!"

CRASH! CRASH!

"STAND STILL SO I CAN STAB YOU!" Cheryl was heard. "I WILL THROW MORE CHAIRS MISTER!"

CRASH! SMASH!

"Great she's doing that throwing chairs trick again," Pam groaned. "Whose turn is it?"

"Yours," Both Ray and Krieger said at the same time.

"Damn it!" Pam groaned. "I was hoping you guys wouldn't remember. I'd better get suited up." She left the room.

CRASH!

"AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHH!"

"HA HA HA HA!"

"It wouldn't be poker night without **one** incident of violence," Ray quipped.

"Why do you think I love it so?" Krieger asked.

"AAAAAAAAAAHHH!" Cyril ran by again.

"MUAH HA HA HA!" Cheryl cackled as she ran by holding a chair over her head.

"I think I should change Cheryl's medication a little," Krieger mused. "She seems to be reacting to the new groovy bear formula a little aggressively."

"HA HA HA HA!"

WHAM!

CRASH!

"DAMN IT CHERYL!" Cyril whined. "I GOT CLIPPED BY THE CHAIR! THAT ACTUALLY **HURT**!"

"NOT AS MUCH AS A NEEDLE IN THE EYE!" Cheryl howled.

"Just a tad," Ray said dryly.

"It could be worse," Krieger sighed. "She could be using the axe."

"We still have that?" Ray asked.

"For fire emergencies yes," Krieger said. "Don't worry. I hid it in my lab."

"Hey I'm the pizza guy," A teenager with a stack of pizza boxes walked up the stairs. "I got a call for a lot of pizzas. The door was open so…"

"Oh right," Ray waved. "How much do we…?"

"RUN FOR YOUR LIVES!" Cyril ran into the room. "SHE'S CRAZY!"

"DUH!" Cheryl ran in carrying an axe.

"OH GOD SHE'S GOT THE AXE!" Krieger shouted.

"SHIT!" Ray swore as Cheryl charged into the room.

"AAAAAAAAAHHHH!" Cyril nearly collided with the pizza man. Soon both of them started to run around the room. Krieger deftly grabbed the pizzas.

"HA!" Cheryl swung the axe down but it got stuck in a desk. "DAMN IT!"

"That's enough you!" Ray pulled her away from the axe. "Cheryl you behave…NO BITING!"

"RARRRR!" Pam ran out wearing a football helmet and some padding on her body. Ray shoved Cheryl towards Pam and Pam tackled her to the ground.

"YAAAAYYY!" Cheryl cheered.

"I got the pizzas!" Krieger called out. "Don't worry I have the pizzas!"

"What the hell is going on?" The pizza delivery boy shouted.

"It's just poker night," Ray waved. "Krieger, she found your axe."

"That's not my axe," Krieger said as he handed the pizza to Ray.

"Are you sure?" Ray asked.

"My axe still has some blood splatter on it," Krieger told him. "Plus, it's larger. I'm sure."

"I bought a new one," Cheryl giggled.

"Don't worry," Pam said cheerfully as she sat on Cheryl. "We'll tie her up and she'll calm down. After we give her some drugs of course."

"Got some right here," Krieger took a syringe out of his lab coat pocket. "Hold her steady please."

"What are you giving her?" Cyril asked.

"Just a mild combination of tranquilizers, anti-depressants with a hint of ecstasy," Krieger said as he gave Cheryl the shot. "Anybody else want some? How about you kid? You're legal right?"

"I'M OUTTA HERE!" The pizza delivery boy ran out the door.

"Was it something I said?" Krieger blinked.

"Well the good news is that we didn't have to pay for the pizza," Ray sighed. "The bad news is I think we got banned from **another **pizza place."

"Technically we're not banned from the place," Cyril said. "But we might have trouble getting our pizza delivered."

"Let's just eat," Ray sighed. "We can clean up the mess later."

"Oh boy…" Cheryl giggled. "The colors…This floor is so comfy."

"What about her?" Cyril pointed.

"I got this," Pam said.

A few minutes later…

"Nom, nom, nom…" Cheryl ate the pizza Pam held for her. She was tied to a chair. "You know? I think I like sausage now."

"This is good pizza," Ray nodded as he ate.

"Wunderbar," Krieger ate. "I hope we're not banned from this place."

"Me too," Cyril sighed as he ate his pizza.

Just then the agency started to shake for half a second. Then stopped. "What was that?" Cyril did a double take.

"Did Pam just burp?" Cheryl blinked.

"No," Pam said. "But something was shaking."

"Did we just have an earthquake?" Cyril blinked.

"No way!" Pam said.

"Well **what else** could it have been?" Ray asked.

"A truck driving by," Pam shrugged. "Could have shook up the street."

"Trucks drive by all the time," Ray said. "The building doesn't shake."

"A really heavy truck drove by," Pam guessed.

"Hang on," Krieger got up and left the room.

"Where's he going?" Cyril asked.

"Timbuktu," Ray said dryly. "Where do you **think?"**

"I was just asking," Cyril protested.

"Hey! Bottle!" Cheryl called out. "I want my bottle!"

"Here!" Pam took a beer bottle and shoved it in Cheryl's mouth. "God is **this** what motherhood is like?"

"Glug! Glug! Glug!" Cheryl gasped as she drank the bottle. Pam pulled the bottle away. "BUUUUUUUUUUUURP!"

"Pretty much," Ray remarked.

Krieger walked back in carrying a small device. "Well," He remarked. "Looks like Archer officially slept through another earthquake."

"I could have slept through **that one**," Cheryl grumbled. "I've had bigger thrills driving over a pothole."

"I made a device to detect and record earthquakes," Krieger explained. "And we had a small one."

"That's two earthquakes Archer's slept through," Cyril thought aloud.

"Three actually," Krieger shrugged. "There was a very small tremor about a couple of weeks ago. During the State of the Union actually."

"No wonder nobody noticed it," Ray remarked. "They were all sound asleep!"

"Or passed out drunk," Pam added. "Cheryl and I did that game where you drank a shot every time they stood up and clapped. We were out before the president finished the second paragraph."

"I've played that game too," Cyril realized.

"Me too," Krieger nodded. His machine started to beep wildly. "Uh oh…"

"What do you mean by…?" Cyril began. Then the room started to shake. "Uh oh…"

"Oh, this is not good," Pam gulped as the room shook even more.

"AAAAAHHHH!" Ray yelled as the room shook violently. Things fell off of shelves and furniture was tossed around.

"WHEEEEEEEEEEEE!" Cheryl laughed as she shook violently in the chair. The chair fell over. "AGAIN!"

"Now this is an earthquake!" Krieger cheered.

"WE CAN SEE THAT KRIEGER!" Cyril wailed as he tried to get away but ended falling down on the floor.

SMASH! SMASH! CRASH!

"Oh God damn it!" Pam realized. "Some of the scotch bottles are breaking!"

"YEAH! **THAT'S **THE PROBLEM IN THIS SITUATION!" Cyril shouted.

The room stopped shaking. "Is it over?" Pam asked nervously.

"Unless there are some aftershocks," Ray let out a breath of relief. "Oh God there usually are aftershocks!"

"Good thing we didn't clean up right away," Krieger mused.

"Archer's gonna be pretty pissed he missed this poker night," Pam remarked.

"Only one thing to do," Ray sighed as he left the room.

"Where are you going?" Pam asked.

"Ms. Archer's liquor cabinet," Ray said. "I'm gonna drink her expensive alcohol, break the bottles in her office and say the earthquake did it."

"Good plan," Pam realized. "I'll join you."

"Me too," Krieger said.

"Why not?" Cyril said as he went with them.

"YAY!" Cheryl said. "Uh little help…?"

The next morning…

"To quote Mallory," Lana looked at the mess before her. "What fresh hell is **this?**"

The Figgis Agency bullpen was a mess. Not only were there broken and empty bottles strewn among the scattered furniture and items, there were pizza boxes everywhere. The gang was lying around on couches. Cheryl was still tied to a chair, smears of pizza on her face.

"Hey Lana," Ray waved.

"Lana," Cyril sighed as he sat up from the couch. "Good morning."

"How was poker night?" Lana asked.

Cyril looked around. "Oh, you know? Same old same old."

"Question," Lana sighed. "Why is Cheryl tied up?"

"Do you see that axe stuck in that desk?" Ray pointed.

"Yes."

"**That's** why," Ray told her.

"Of course," Lana groaned. "How did Cheryl get an axe?"

"I bought it," Cheryl giggled. "Duh!"

"Of course you did," Lana groaned. "It wouldn't be a typical morning if I didn't come in and have to clean up the mess you idiots made!"

"To be fair," Ray pointed out. "We're not a hundred percent responsible for the mess **this time."**

"Yeah the earthquake and a half did a lot of damage," Pam added. "Head's up, we might be banned from another pizza place. Cheryl's fault mostly. You know because she was running around chopping things up with the axe."

"One of them was almost me," Cyril moaned.

"I'm not cleaning this up," Lana turned around. "I am **out **of here!"

"Take me with you!" Cyril pleaded.

"Noooope," Lana said as she left.

"God, I love poker night," Krieger grinned.


End file.
